


Tug

by LionPenne



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23758237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LionPenne/pseuds/LionPenne
Summary: Daisy struggles to re-adjust after returning from the Buried.(aka Daisy just wants to have a nice shower but the universe says no)
Relationships: Basira Hussain & Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Tug

After she gets out, after being brought to Basira’s flat (couldn’t even walk on her own, so weak, so useless), after gently pushing her way out of a tight (too tight- to close- can’t breathe) hug, after murmuring quiet reassurances that she would be okay (and not quite hearing that it was alright if she wasn’t), Daisy showers.

She showers, and showers. She showers curled on the floor, not even able to stand on her own. She scrubs the dirt from herself until there’s nothing but clean skin, and then she scrubs some more. Distantly she thinks of how dry her skin is while surrounded by water, how red it is from the heat. The water is warm, comforting. It fogs up the bathroom, moistens the air. It’s hot. Scalding. The air is stuffy and still, and each breath feels so shallow and useless and-

She changes the water to cool.

She tilts her head towards the shower-head, letting the water drift across her face, wiping away tears. She rarely cried before, never let herself lose control. Her hair tugs on her head, heavy with dirt and water and knots. She never noticed before how heavy it gets when wet. It tugs and tugs. She tries to ignore it. There’s no reason it should bother her. She’s out now. She’s free and she’s safe and Basira is here. Basira loves her. Basira loves her hair; loves to run her fingers through it and braid it and comb the knots-

Knots. Knots that tug and tug and tug and- 

Daisy reaches for the shampoo. She’d used it many times before. Before, when she would crash at Basira’s place because hers was just too far and they were too tired. She halfheartedly tries to drag it through her hair. She loved Basira, loved the way the scent of Basira would follow her all day when she used her shampoo. She still loves Basira, things don’t have to change, she will catch that comforting whiff of Basira every time she turns her head. She’s free and she’s safe and Basira loves her. Basira loves her hai- Her fingers get caught in the tangles, and tug. 

She gives up on washing her hair. 

She rests her head on her knees and lets the water run across her body. She knows that the dirt is gone, but still feels it caking her skin, grimy and tight and restrictive and squeezing.

She shifts slightly, separating her limbs, gives herself the space she was denied for so long. Her hair slips off her back in one big clump, and it tugs.

This time, the sensation sends a shudder through Daisy. The pulling, the tugging, the pressure is just too wrong. Too much.

She turns off the shower.

She wrings the water out from her hair. It doesn’t help. It’s still tangled in a clump and it pulls and tugs and all of a sudden she’s back there and the pressure is allconsuming and she needs to get out, out-

Daisy tries to stand up, tries to stumble her way over to the cabinet, only saves herself from falling by grabbing onto the sink. Every movement of her head just pulls, tugs more. She opens the cabinet. Right where she knew they would be, a pair of scissors. 

She collapses on the floor, but she has what she needs now. A choked sob jerks through her body. She cuts and cuts and the pulling goes away. She cuts as much off as she can, and feels the air against her scalp. The air isn’t still, and there isn’t any pressure and she’s out. She’s free and she’s safe and Basira’s here. Basira loves her. 

Basira loves her hair. The hair that now lay on the ground, tangled and dirty. Basira loved her hair. But now that hair is gone and Daisy is collapsed on the bathroom floor, shaking with silent sobs, tears running down her face, unable to even stand. Pathetic. Useless. Weak.

A knock. A knock on the door. A soft voice asking if she’s okay. Basira. Basira can’t see her like this, Basira can’t see her weak and crying and uneven.

The door pushes open, deaf to Daisy’s silent pleads. No, no, no, no, no, no-

A towel is draped loosely around her shoulders, a hand brushes through the little left of her hair.

“Daisy, I-”, a concerned voice cuts through the silence. “I’m here. You’re here. You’re safe. Just breathe.” Daisy sees Basira. Feels her hand resting cautiously on the back of her head. Lovingly, on her shorn, uneven hair.

This time, Daisy initiates the hug. Arms wrap around her, and it isn’t too close or too tight, and the arms don’t tug and finally Daisy can believe it when she tells herself that she’s free and she’s safe and Basira’s here. She can believe that Basira still loves her.

After Basira helps her dry off (“Let me know if you need some space”), after Basira helps her get dressed (“You may be weak now, but you’re still the strongest person I know, okay?”), after Basira smiles at her like Daisy’s her entire world (“I love you”), after the two rest (“There’s no rush, we have time”), they head out. Daisy has one of Basira’s scarves wrapped around her head and one of her arms slung across her waist, and knows that if she falls, Basira will always be there to catch her.

They buy a nice pair of clippers and Basira gently buzzes Daisy’s hair, bringing it all to an even length as Daisy watches numbly through the mirror.

“What d’you think?” Basira asks cautiously.

Daisy can see the map of scars on her head. Can remember where each one came from. She turns her head. Her hair doesn’t tug. She can feel the air.

“It’s good,” she says. “Badass.” A soft smile spreads across her face, one that never would have been there Before. But before doesn’t matter, because right now Daisy’s free and safe, and Basira’s here. Basira loves her.

**Author's Note:**

> Whooo, first time writing a fanfiction in 7 years, courtesy of self-isolation.
> 
> Also, Jon absolutely would try to compliment her on her hair, and just fail miserably. Probably would start rambling about "aesthetic variation" or something.


End file.
